Living Nightmare
by a.lakewood
Summary: Takes place just prior to season six. Sam finds himself on a case that isn't at all what it seems.


**Title**: Living Nightmare [1/1]  
**Author**: alakewood  
**Warnings**: General spoilers for seasons 3-5, slightly more major spoilers for 6.01 (_Exile on Main St._). Non-graphic demonic!child death.  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Word Count**: ~2980  
**Summary**: Takes place just prior to season six. Sam finds himself on a case that isn't at all what it seems.  
**Disclaimer**: As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

Bells on the door jangled loudly before clattering against the glass of the window as Sam entered the small bookstore just off Milwaukee in downtown Chicago. Mark had sent him to the Occult Book Store to pick up a couple of texts for Samuel. Tall shelves lined both sides of the narrow aisle in short rows and Sam could see the end of a wooden counter some fifteen feet into the store.

A bored-looking guy a few years younger than Sam peered around the last case, dark tattoos visible on his neck in the dim light that filtered in through a dusty window above the register. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm here to pick up a couple books for Sam Campbell," Sam told him, leaning against the counter.

The young man nodded, light glinting off the quarter-sized lucite plugs in his gauged ears. "Been waiting for you. Got 'em in the back. Hold on."

Sam pulled his wallet from his back pocket, held it between both hands on the counter as he let his gaze wander over the miscellaneous items in the lit display cases along the back wall. He was surprised that quite a few pieces looked legit.

"Here we go." The kid set the books on the counter then typed the prices into the computer. "Cash or credit?"

"Cash."

"Ninety-three twenty-seven. Your friend's got a pretty eccentric taste in literature. Half that stuff I couldn't even read."

Sam offered half a smile. Latin and a few other random European languages, like Gaelic, he knew or could muddle through, but some of the Arabic and Aramaic stuff that Samuel had... Half the time, Sam didn't even know if he was supposed to start reading from the left or the right. "Me either." Sam dug five twenties from the back section of his wallet and pushed them across the counter.

"Six seventy-three is your change." He dropped the change into Sam's hand first, the backs of his fingers brushing against Sam's palm, before handing Sam a five and a one, tips of their fingers touching in the hand off. "Have a nice day."

Sam pocketed his change and slid the stack of books off the counter. "You, too, man."

Back outside, Sam dropped the books into the trunk of his car before slipping behind the wheel. He picked his cell up from the console and dialed Samuel's number. His grandfather answered after two rings. "You got the books?"

"Yeah. You need anything else while I'm here?"

"No. That's all. Head on back." Then the line disconnected.

Sam rolled his eyes and tossed his phone onto the passenger's seat. As much as he knew Samuel never liked John, the two men were an awful lot alike. He pulled out of his parking space and back onto Milwaukee Avenue behind the slowest pickup truck ever while something sporty, classic, and orange – and vaguely familiar to some memory of the not-so-distant past - sped by. In a matter of minutes, he was back on the Kennedy Expressway, heading south out of the city proper and into the sprawling suburbs and beyond.

**oxo**

Sam had been in the car nearly all day, driving from the hunt he'd been on in northern Michigan for the past few days to Chicago to pick up Samuel's books, and he was only a couple hours out of the compound. Still, he felt the weariness of the road seeping into his bones and weighing heavily, tired eyes itchy and dry. He stopped for gas and large coffee, hoping to make the last of his trip with no incident. Just another hundred-plus miles and he'd be able to sleep.

He shoved his wallet into his back pocket and dug his keys of of his front as he headed outside and across the lot to where his Charger was parked beneath the bright fluorescent lights of the awning above the pumps. Years of being trained as a hunter made the sudden movement at the very edge of his peripheral vision obvious, even though it was soundless and in the shadows. He turned, squinting against the harsh lights into the darkness alongside the gas station. The petite brunette pressed close to the side of the building was familiar and Sam could feel her eyes on him, knew when their gazes met. His pulse started to race even though he knew it was _impossible._ He closed his eyes and counted to ten, willing his heart to slow. And when he opened them again, she was gone.

Sam was completely on edge as he climbed back into his car, wasn't sure he would need coffee to keep himself awake any longer, and glanced into all his mirrors as he left the gas station and pulled out onto the highway again.

**oxo**

As Sam neared the compound, he saw it again. That sporty orange car whizzing past, not much more than a blur in the darkness as it passed him on the two-lane, crossing back in front of him just beyond the reach of his headlights. It felt like the bottom dropped right out of his stomach, seeing that car. _Ruby's_ car. It was impossible, wasn't it? Hadn't he killed her with her own magic, demon-killing knife? But she was the woman he'd seen back at the gas station. He was _certain._

He couldn't go back to the compound, couldn't lead her there. So he continued past the turn for the lane, kept on towards the next town where he pulled off into a motel. He dialed Samuel again after he got himself a room. "Where are you, Sam? Should've been here at least half an hour ago."

"I'm in Lincoln. I think I was being followed."

"Sam-"

"I'll head back out in the morning. When it's safe."

"Sam-"

"Just trust me." He thumbed the 'END' button, then pressed and held it down to shut off the phone. After grabbing his bag from the trunk, he went to his room and locked himself inside.

**oxo**

Sam only slept for a few hours, left his room before the sun had risen, drove a winding path through the streets of Lincoln before heading back out to the highway and for the compound. Despite the hour, Samuel met him at the door, concern obvious on his face even when it had been lacking in his voice on the phone. "You okay, son?" he asked, accepting the books Sam offered before he headed for the weapons room.

"Fine. I'm fine," he replied distractedly, visually browsing the assorted guns and ammunition and various other armaments before he decided he'd never find what he needed here.

"You look rattled, Sam. Who do you think is following you?"

"Don't worry about it," Sam said, turning back towards his grandfather. "I've got it under control."

"Sam." There was a hint of warning there that sounded just John.

"I've got it." But he wasn't sure he did. Not yet, anyway. He just had to make a quick trip to Cicero, Indiana, break into Dean's garage and steal Ruby's knife from the trunk of the Impala. Then _maybe_ he'd have things under control. It was only a matter of time before Ruby would be popping out of the woodwork again like the cockroach she was.

**oxo**

Under the guise of nightfall, Sam snuck into Dean's unlocked garage and jimmied open the Impala's trunk. A lot of things were missing from its contents – not the weapons, but other things. Both his and Dean's duffels were gone, every little trace of Sam wiped clean from the trunk including his journal and his Taurus. John's journal wasn't in its usual place, either. But none of that mattered, at least not for the moment, because what he'd come for was right where he'd left it so long ago. It was strapped down with leather right next to one of Dean's larger Bowies. He quickly retrieved the knife and returned everything to its proper place before heading back out.

It made his chest ache to know that even though Dean was so near, he couldn't drop in just to say 'hey.' It was the first time in the year that he'd been back that he'd even thought about contacting his brother. His self-imposed Dean-doesn't-need-to-know-I'm-back campaign had been just as much for himself as it had been for Dean and his happiness. But now, maybe because Ruby – he was _positive_ it was Ruby – was back out and after him, he was beginning to feel the urge to go to his brother.

But that would only put Dean in danger, if Sam hadn't already just by going there. But he'd been painstakingly careful. Taken a room at the Flamingo Motel in a town fifteen minutes away, boosted a car from the darkest corner of the restaurant parking lot across the street. Barely forty-five minutes later, he was back in his motel room, salt-lines refreshed, with Ruby's knife tucked snugly in the waist of his jeans. He pulled the blade out and set it atop his nightstand.

**oxo**

Sam grabbed a quick breakfast the following morning at Sherrill's – the restaurant across the street. And it – that thing he felt deep down in his bones – was right in front of him: big, bold headlines across the top of the Indianapolis Star.

Missing babies and a missing nurse – every major hospital in the city had at least two or three cases. Except one.

Two other news stories caught his attention: a nine-year-old girl had gone missing only a couple days before all the babies started to disappear, then there was another that detailed the miraculous recovery of a woman who had been in a coma for twenty years.

But it was all too obvious, wasn't it? But anything could seem obvious if you know exactly what you're looking for. It _was_ Ruby. And now Lilith. It was worse than bad.

Sam folded up the newspaper and tossed a couple-dollar tip on the table before heading back to his motel to grab his things and head for Indy.

In the car, he turned his cell back on and ignored the ten missed calls and half-as-many voicemails from Samuel, and dialed Bobby.

"Sam?"

"Hey, Bobby. Got a question for you."

There was a brief, hesitant pause on Bobby's end. "Shoot."

"You heard of anything going on in the Indianapolis area?"

"You're in Indiana?"

"Bobby."

"No, nothing. Why? You onto something?"

"Maybe."

"You need a hand?"

"Just let me know if you hear anything."

"Okay, son."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"You're welcome, Sam."

**oxo**

Sam sat in the lot of Methodist Hospital, not far off from I-65. He'd already canvassed the outside of the building and was in clear view of the one entrance that didn't have much foot-traffic. It would be the perfect way to get in and out virtually undetected. So he sat, and he waited. Hours stretched on and bled together and he just couldn't sit there any longer. The hunt itched beneath his skin and he headed into the hospital and straight for the maternity ward.

He passed an ordinary-looking man in the hall, eyes tired and jaw shadowed with quite a bit more than five-o'clock scruff. But he heard the man's footsteps stop only a few paces away. And that made Sam stop and turn. The man fixed a blank stare on Sam before he blinked and his eyes were black, a slow grin turning up the corners of his mouth. "You can't stop Lilith," he said, voice calm, low. "She's coming. She's coming for _you._"

Sam felt the coolness of the blade of the knife pressed against his ankle where it was tucked into his boot, but he couldn't very well kill anyone – even a filthy demon – in the middle of a hospital. He kept his gaze locked on the harried-looking, black-eyed man and backed down the hall, around the corner, and tore down the stairs as fast as he could.

He was halfway across the dark parking lot when a child's gleeful laughter halted him in his tracks. He turned towards the sound, caught sight to two figures in the shadow of a loading dock. A woman and a young girl. Sam crouched down and pulled the knife from his boot, crept between cars to get closer.

It was strange how, in that moment, random bits of his training and a vague memory of the ancient literature class he'd taken at Stanford merged together. His father showing him how to properly handle a blade and the story of Beowulf, twisted and tangled in his head. And it was like _Sam_ was Beowulf, ultimate hunter and slayer of the beast, as he prepared to attack Ruby and Lilith. Grendel and his mother. Magic sword in hand.

Then he remembered how Beowulf's story had ended. Remembered what happened the last time he killed Lilith. Didn't want a repeat of the past, but there were no more seals to break. Lucifer was still chained in his cage. Killing Lilith couldn't free him again.

So he continued on, pressed close to the side of the hospital as he moved silently. He took them both by surprise – caught Ruby just under her ribs, buried the knife to the hilt in one quick movement. Lilith let loose a scream that made Sam's ears ring. Her dress was already stained with blood when he caught her in the belly, white light just starting to amass and grow behind her. The light quickly faded, as did her screams, and her body – the tiny body of a child – slumped to the ground against Ruby's borrowed meatsuit.

Sam stooped low to wipe the blade of the knife on the leg of the woman's jeans before he raced off to his car. Had to get away from there before someone came running to help the screaming little girl. In a matter of minutes he was weaving his way through the suburbs of the city, heading north, towards Dean.

Cicero was only half an hour away – wasn't far. He just needed to be certain that his brother was okay.

And he was. Thankfully. Sam could see him through barely closed blinds and gaps in the curtains. Watched as Dean's shadow crossed behind the windows as he turned out lights around the house.

Dean was okay, and Lilith and Ruby were dead. But Sam still had the feeling that whatever was going on wasn't over. But he couldn't stake out his brother's house all night, couldn't risk Dean discovering him. So, forty minutes later he found himself squatting in a half-collapsed house on Devaney Road a couple miles outside Cicero.

"What're you waitin' for, Sammy?" a smooth, disembodied voice questioned. "Hmm?"

The voice was familiar. The voice was-

His own.

"No," he breathed, heart hammering in his chest.

"Yes. Come _on_, Sam. You know you couldn't leave me behind so easily. If you could get out, what makes you think I had to stay in? You can't hide, Sammy. Not from me. I'm part of you now."

"You can't be here."

"But I am. And we're going to have so much fun. I'm going to-"

A sudden pounding on the front door of the house interrupted Lucifer, then the door flung open wide and crashed against the wall, sending plaster flying.

"That's my cue," Lucifer said before he became nothing once again.

Sam's focus shifted from the point in space where Lucifer – in _Sam's skin_ - had been standing moments before to the shadowed figure that had burst through the door. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest as it thundered against his ribs.

"You gotta get out of here, Sammy," Dean told him. "Gotta go, gotta _leave._"

"Dean."

"No, I don't want to _hear_ it. You've been gone for a _year_. I moved _on._ I'm _happy._ Happier than I ever was with you hanging around. I've got a _real_ family now-"

And Sam didn't have a chance to reply, to argue or agree, because Samuel was suddenly there, hypodermic syringe in his hand, needle piercing Sam's chest and fire bursting through his veins. He felt like he was combusting, the white-hot pain flaring after the heat, and everything went black.

**oxo**

"A djinn?" Sam echoed, taking the bottle of water Christian offered, downing half its contents in one large gulp.

"Yeah. They're rare in the states, but not unheard of," Samuel told him.

Sam nodded. "Me and Dean tracked one to Joliet in oh-seven..." He trailed off, eyes flicking up to his grandfather's and holding his gaze. "Chicago. When I was in Chicago, picking up your books, the kid was all tattooed. I thought the design was kind of familiar..." He shook his head.

"You think it's related to the one you and your brother killed?" Gwen asked, leaning forward in her chair.

Sam shrugged, stood from his seat, swirled the last few swallows of water around in the bottle. "It'd be my best guess. And if it knew where I was going to be, it probably knows where Dean is. Hell, if it was following me, I led it straight to him."

"All right, kids," Samuel said, pushing himself up from the table. "We got a monster to find." He passed Sam, clapped a hand on his back, and went to help the rest of the Campbells prepare for the coming hunt.


End file.
